


Salem's Home for the Displaced

by notHarold



Category: RWBY
Genre: Duplicate characters, Gen, Homesickness, How Do I Tag, Inexplicable Friendship, Multiple Universes Colliding, Nicknames for Everyone, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibly Unrequited Love, Suicidal Thoughts, don't worry if nothing makes sense, everyone is in salem's castle, i think this will vacillate between moods, it's everything and the kitchen sink, please suggest additional tags, warnings category and tags subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-11-12 17:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notHarold/pseuds/notHarold
Summary: Of all the powerful artifacts in Salem's possession to go on the fritz, she is relieved that it is a relatively unremarkable door. She just wishes that she could send the people that arrive through it back to their homes. For a start, it is confusing when there are multiple of the same person in a room. Worse still, Ozma and Reese will be disappointed in her if she leaves them all to figure out the problem on their own. At least everyone is interesting and relatively agreeable.





	1. A Normal Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [RedVelvetLadyBug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedVelvetLadybug/pseuds/RedVelvetLadybug) and [Sasam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasam/pseuds/Sasam) for the roots of this fic. Special thanks to [Texan_Red_Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Texan_Red_Rose/pseuds/Texan_Red_Rose) for giving me the final push to set this off.
> 
> * * *
> 
> There's a lot to unpack here at the start, but I'm going to toss it all into your hands.

Salem wiped the sleep from her eyes as she descended the stairs of her castle and made her way down to the kitchen. She wondered briefly if she should be ashamed of waking up so late in the morning or traipsing through her home in a casual outfit while she had guests. A patch of rough railing distracted her from those thoughts and instead had her resolve to check the condition of everything she and Reese could grind across. It had been awhile since they last had the opportunity to grind non-stop from the highest point of her castle and out the front… speaking of which, she had to check and ensure that the pavement there was still level. Then the smell wafting up from the kitchen distracted her from that. Judging from how enticing the blend of simple scents were, it seemed as though Velvet had commandeered the kitchen. Her growling stomach wondered what dream the little devil had whipped up for everyone.

The thought put a little skip in Salem's step as she slipped into the once oversized kitchen. It was a wonder to behold how busy it was now. It felt like only yesterday that it had been only her, the Rainarts, Tyrian, Cinder, and Arthur. It was rare for there to ever be more than one person cooking. Now she wondered if she needed to hire dedicated cooks to feed everyone. In the meantime, whoever felt obligated to feed her guests handled the matter just fine.

For her part, Velvet looked right at home at the stove with every burner occupied and her hair tied back into a neat little bun. She wore a personalized apron. It was a funny little thing that promised "Delicious Deals Daily," a phrase that she remained true to since her arrival, though it was alway up in the air how much the chef would make and for which meal she would make it.

Beside her, Cinder made a show of her knife skills, slicing bacon from a slab and molding sausage patties for Velvet. There was a rhythm to it. If Salem had been none the wiser, she would have thought that Velvet's cooking demanded Cinder swap regularly between her tasks when in truth, Cinder's aches and strains dictated her pacing. The faunus worked with her, saying nothing to belittle Cinder's determination to prove that the loss of an eye and her weak arm made her no less capable. She even fought against the idea that anyone with aura could outdo her. Then again, it may have been a more personal competition against the pale woman on Velvet's other side.

Like Cinder, Weiss was blind in one eye and dealt with a less than capable arm. Unlike Cinder, Weiss had nothing to prove, and she wore her scars with pride. From the thick gouge that blinded her down to her prosthetic leg, the woman had no shame or secrets. She demanded the best of herself for no better reason than to be the best she could be. Today, that meant cutting thick slices of bread, chopping apples, and ensuring that Velvet had a healthy supply of batter, butter, cinnamon, and sugar in arm's reach at all times.

Working away from them, Roman faked tears while he whisked eggs to scramble and coat the toast. "You're the worst! Demon! Cold-blooded monster!" he shouted, not that any of the women seemed to care about his insults or exaggerated bellyaching. "Cut me some slack already. Not even Sienna is this bad. I've been here forever, and I can't feel my arms!" How he managed to be the kitchen's head when Velvet was out, Salem had no idea. Why Velvet felt the need to antagonize the man that stocked the kitchen with quality goods for a fraction of the lien it should have cost, Salem wanted to know.

"One swipe, one service," Velvet stated, answering the unspoken question. Her eyes flashed red as she turned to stare the thief down. "I've told you the rule, and I'm making good on my word. It's not like you have a hard job, and you could've just waited a few minutes instead of stealing a bite" Her spatula flicked toward Salem as she tried to sneak closer. "And you! Don't you dare try the same. Host or not, I'll hold you to it! Same as him!"

"And if I just happen to come in time to deliver the next batch?" Salem suggested, eying the dishes nearly filled to the brim and ready to deliver to the dining room. Roman paled. His eyes begged for her to take back her words— for her to allude to any work but the delivery that would free him from whisk hell, even if only for a short while.

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Fine," the faunus conceded, damning Roman and depriving him of rest, however short. "But if you come back in here before breakfast service is done, I'm putting you to work. I'll make you wish that the words on your shirt are a lie."

"It is a lie," Weiss chimed in much too cheerily in the context of denying that Salem couldn't be killed. "I'm just too busy to prove otherwise."

"If it bleeds, it can die," Cinder quipped as though she hadn't watched Salem turn into a smear on the ground only to spring back up moments later no worse off aside from her damaged outfit. "No exceptions."

Salem let out a bark of laughter while Velvet plated up the latest batch of food. "As if I didn't already wish I were dead." It wasn't strictly true, not anymore and certainly not lately, but she felt like she was allowed to make the joke. It helped her tack on, "Thank you for tempting me away from making it a reality." And with that, she scooped up the dishes and fled the scene while Roman cursed her name.

The dining room was already full of chatter when Salem burst in. An expedition team from Mistral seemed halfway between leaving and awaiting more sinfully good food. They seemed more than happy to waste their time and chatter with Arthur and Merlot instead of head off quickly like Salem presumed the absent dust miners had. Her appearance seemed to stop several new faces short, though Merlot forged ahead in their conversation without a care, forcing everyone to decide quickly whether or not seeing the Grimmland Ghost at less than blinding speed was worth their attention.

"I told you she's a cutie with a nice booty," Salem heard Jinn tease while she set the fresh additions of food down and loaded her own plate. A wiggle of her hips drew a laugh from the Spirit of Knowledge, permitting her to add, "And she knows she has it." To Salem's surprise, when she turned she found that it was Pyrrha she was teasing instead of Winter. Then again, she never heard Jinn's usual companion dispute her claims. "And I'll have you know that her outfit isn't joking. The gods won't let her die; she can't be killed." She giggled and leaned in to whisper a kicker into Pyrrha's ear.

Jinn cackled when Pyrrha blushed and turned away, only to turn the back when her eyes met her girlfriend's. Penny seemed to take it all in stride, hugging Pyrrha from behind while her eyes flicked between her and Salem. Salem quirked her brow when Penny settled her attention on her. A flick of her eyes toward Jinn, knowing Penny wouldn't mistake it for a look at Pyrhha, drew pursed lips and a shake of the android's head. Jinn wasn't being too much of a pest for either of the girls yet. _Yet._ With a nod, Salem went on her way, letting Pyrrha recover and trusting Penny to chastise Jinn if she crossed any boundaries and call for help if she needed it. If nothing else, Pyrrha would have a respite while she escorted the explorers whenever they decided to leave.

Salem hoped that Atlas would respond to her hails and requests for spare parts sooner rather than later. Pyrrha ran herself ragged to earn the exhorbitant amounts of lien the military initially quoted for Penny's repairs and maintenance. She felt that it was too cruel to hold back aid when Penny still acted in their service— was damaged in the line of duty, even in as remote a location as the Grimmlands. The radio silence hurt more than a flat no. At least then, Penny could decide whether or not to seek help from other sources. Ruby and Raven for example.

They sat at next table over. Salem couldn't help but laugh at Ruby squawking in protest while Yang shielded her eyes from Salem. Yang in turn protested while Raven covered her eyes. Raven herself seemed torn between telling off the girls for their racket and shooting Salem dirty looks as though she were at fault for being comfortable in her own home. It felt hypocritical considering that she had yet to change out of her own set of pajamas, no matter how much more they covered her than Salem's covered her. Just as Raven decided to get on Salem's case, Ruby clucked something that demanded her immediate undivided attention.

It was unfortunate that Salem missed her opportunity to work out the required witchcraft to listen to the conversation of bird calls. She wondered what Ruby said that demanded Yang's ears to be covered in spite of her lack of comprehension while Raven told Ruby off. Her rough approximation of cawing seemed to amuse Ruby in spite of the trouble she had landed in. At least Salem could make a clean getaway. Even if she wanted to dangle Raven's waived bills and the wages she paid for her construction work over her head, it wouldn't stop the tongue lashing the woman would dole out.

Winter, Whitley, Hazel, Gretchen, Oscar, and Gwendolen crammed themselves on the next table. From the sound of things, Gretchen and Oscar were all but trapped in a world of their own. They barely gave any attention to Winter when she tossed in an off-hand remark, and neither noticed how Hazel's unguarded glare promised the farmhand a painful death for daring to discuss erotic fiction with his little sister over breakfast. Thankfully, Whitley and Gwen seemed aware enough to keep an eye on the mountain of a man, gently directing Winter's attention his way whenever they felt Hazel might throttle their boyfriend.

Salem wondered if separating Hazel would help ensure Oscar's safety. Sure he had his lovers looking out for him, but both of them were untrained civilians, and while Salem had no doubt in Winter's abilities, she was equally sure that the smirk on her face foreshadowed provoking Hazel further. It wasn't as though Oscar were Ozma. The teen deserved no lashing for his hobby. Only the soft glow of a summon hiding under the table comforted Salem enough to trust Winter's confident look and the wave assuring her that she would take responsibility for keeping Hazel in line.

That just left several bare tables and a pair that had been brought together to comfortably seat her remaining present guests. It seemed as though Amber, Ilia, Neo, and Sienna had teamed up to give Emerald advice.

When Salem took a seat nearby, Neo spared her a nod in greeting before turning back to listen to the conversation at hand. "You said it yourself, Emerald, it keeps you up at night," Sienna pointed out with a tender care that Salem hadn't heard her use before, not even with Ilia. "It's hurting you, and it's hurting you worse to stay silent."

"It's not like I can just go and say, 'hey, Cinder, guess what? I've been in love with you ever since you took me in.' Of course, I love her, but with everything that's happened and how long we've known each other, she'll just think I love her like family." Emerald collapsed into her arms with a groan. "I have to just deal with it. I'll get over this stupid crush eventually."

Ilia hesitated to comfort her, only resting a hand on Emerald's shoulder when Neo gave her an encouraging nod. "That's not true," she started. "I know I haven't known you for very long, but I think there's a chance that she'll love you back if she doesn't already. You're already friends. What's the harm in asking if you can be something more?"

"What if she doesn't? What if it ends up making her hate me? We live together!"

Ilia grimaced. When it became clear that she couldn't move forward, Amber took a breath and gave her own try.

"From what you've told me, it sounds like she cares a great deal about you," she started gently, mirroring Ilia on Emerald's other side. "She knows about your past, what you did to survive, and it doesn't sound like she was ever disgusted by it. You deserve to know if you have a chance to be happy with her, if she loves you, and the only way you'll find out is if you tell her how you feel." She put on a weak smile, something she hoped looked encouraging. "I won't say it won't hurt if she rejects you, or even that the pain will go away afterward, but at least you'll know— you'll _know_ how she feels about you, and you won't be tortured by the possibility."

Emerald huffed. "That's easy for you to say," she snapped, shoving Amber off and knocking an empty plate to the floor. Her voice cut past the other conversations in the room, casting a hush over them as they turned toward the outburst. "You— you're dating another version of her!" Tears welled in her eyes even as Ilia held her back. "You didn't have to wonder if she was interested in you or listen to someone that looks like your uncle tell you that another clone of your crush only looked at you like a tool, wrapped you around her finger so she could use you." She fell limp. "You never had someone with your own face tell you how she was rejected— how it still hurts years later."

Salem— Skater's heart clenched when sobs rocked Emerald— Eros's body. She knew that she had a hard time adjusting. She never realized how much it hurt her to meet a stranger with her father figure's face. She never considered that encouraging her to talk with Exhaust, her double, would only exacerbate her issues.

"You didn't come here alone." Before she knew it, Skater had Eros in her arms— hunger forgotten in the face of emotional turmoil. Eros buried her face into Skater's chest, her dams coming undone all at once. "I wanna go back to my team— my family," she cried as Skater tried her best to soothe her. "Let me go home."

If only Skater— if only _anyone_ at all knew how, she would grant it to her— to everyone that had stumbled into her home unaware. No matter which Spirit of Knowledge she asked or which formerly-active universe-crossing guest she questioned, there was no known solution. All she could do was give Eros empty and vague promises that everything would be alright and that she would be able to go home. That she would only be here for a little bit longer. That she would return to her family.

Skater hoped she wasn't lying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in the kitchen gangs up on the Wicker because they care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I made a continuation of a thing.
> 
> Wicker has nicknames for just about everyone, and they follow pair of rules.
> 
>   1. The first letter of the nickname matches the person's real name.
>   2. The name relates to the person in some way. Typically, it will relate in a way unique to the person and not their base.
> 


Wicker sighed as Arrow finished relaying Eros' breakdown. She had hoped that her advice would tide the hunteress-in-training over. It seemed that friendship and spars had done the girl no good. Had she even taken Wicker's advice? She sighed and wondered, as she often did, if she could have prevented it (whatever the calamity of the hour was) if she had done something different.

"Wipe that look off your face, young lady," Vore demanded, turning away from the sink to jab a wet, soapy finger in her direction. "It doesn't suit you."

"What are you talking about?" Wicker challenged, mindful of her expression now that the faunus had pointed it out. "I always have a smile on my face."

Vore rolled her eyes. "That pretty scar doesn't count as a smile, even if it's the name for its kind," she scoffed as she went back to work. "Besides, don't act like no one can tell you have your own problems."

It was Wicker's turn to roll her eyes, even if Vore couldn't see it. "I've always had problems. Being confined to the Land of Darkness and being relatively isolated isn't a problem for me."

A chill fell over the room as Vore froze and slowly turned her head, twisting it further than natural to glare at Wicker. "You—" She immediately started hacking and coughing, unable to deal with the sensation of speaking while her throat was in an unnatural position.

"What our dear slave-driver wanted to say is that your limp is getting worse and so's the range on your left shoulder. You're lookin' a lot paler today than when I first got here too," Revenant cut in with a huff. He tossed aside a dishrag and took a break while Vore got over her fit. "On top of that, you're putting a lot more weight on my cane— not a problem for me. By all means, use it the way you need to, but you're not foolin' anyone into thinking you're okay."

For a moment, Wicker opened her mouth to argue, only to reconsider. "I hadn't noticed," she settled.

" _I hadn't noticed,_ " Revenant parrotted back, trying and failing to mimic her voice. "Aren't you a hunter? It's kind of a big deal when your aura and body starts to fail on you. You've even got the scars to say you've learned that lesson the hard way."

"I hadn't noticed that it was getting _worse_ ," she clarified.

"But you knew that there was an issue?" Vore asked, abandoning the dirty pans and intimidating aura for the moment. Wicker could hardly guess why she had tried to look frightening and unnatural. She knew Wicker the best out of everyone in the castle. "Why didn't you do anything about it?"

"Do you have an engineer or a surgeon hidden away somewhere? How about any kind of physician? I can't exactly go anywhere without border security getting on my case."

It took Vore a moment to figure out what Wicker meant. "Right, none of us officially exist, and…" She trailed off before turning to Revenant, squinting at him. "Wait a second…"

"I just dusted off some old files since the me that's supposed to be here wasn't using them." Revenant grinned and thrust a thumb at himself. "You're talking to one Rowan Brunswick, proprietor of _Brunswick Baggage and Barter_ and a citizen of Mistral and Vale." His cheer faded. "Don't ask about fake IDs or trying to get in touch with anyone shady through me. I'm pretty sure that the guys in Mistral tend to be more musclehead than head-muscle, and I'm on thin ice with VPD since I'm suspicious and share a face with one of the biggest criminals they have on file." He scowled. "Also, fuck that guy."

"You met?" Wicker perked up.

"Yes, but also screw that. We were talking about you," Revenant snapped, putting a pout on Wicker's face. "Don't try to distract me, I've had Ilia and Neo gang up on me, your solo act won't cut it." He paused then conceded, "Not for long." He jabbed a finger at Vore. "And you! Try not to get on solutions until we know that little miss scars-for-days is taking her problems seriously." More gently, he added, "And please get me back on track if I get off-beat."

Wicker held up her hands in mock defense, not caring that her left refused to respond as well her right. "I _am_ taking my problems seriously, Revenant," she assured him. "I just don't have any solutions that won't cause our host any trouble or end with me in detention."

"What about Merlot? Or… what was it that you call him?" Vore suggested.

"Madman: I trust that he'll take me apart properly; I'm not so sure that he'll put me back together again."

"The good doctor isn't that bad," Arrow cut in, turning away from her girlfriend for a moment. "Sure, he's a bit quirky, but he doesn't deserve that nickname."

Wicker shrugged. "He insisted that grimm are the key to improving everything on Remnant. Skater has confirmed that the results are marginal at best for this reality and said that she had told him so many times," she argued. "It's just what stood out to me when we spoke, and he never minded it. He didn't mind even after he gave up and turned his research toward new horizons. Looking into the base components of grimm has much more merit."

"And we're getting off topic again," Revenant snorted. "Seriously, Wicker, give us the skinny on what's up with you."

"Fiiiine," Wicker whined, drawing the word out and rolling her eyes. "Pre-existing _physical_ conditions include a missing eye and severed leg. I lost my glass eye and damaged my prosthetic on arrival. My arrival also aggravated my shoulder, which has been previously worked on, and has been in persistent pain since I woke up here. I've lost the range I had in it. More recently, I've been had pain in what's left of my severed leg, and it's been oozing pus—"

"Fuck the police, I'm taking you to a hospital!" Revenant declared, starting for the door to the dining room only to stop hard. It was as though he slammed into an invisible wall and his feet suddenly refused to lift up from the floor. He scowled and turned to Vore. "Do you have a problem with that, little miss demon?"

"Don't be in such a rush, Roman," Chamber chastised, waggling a fork at him. "The authorities don't so much as recognize our _host_ as a person." She sighed. "I'm not a fan of being hours away from proper help, but we can't do as we please without attracting attention."

"I'm not a fan of hearing that she's oozing anything for any reason!" Revenant shot back. "Sounds like a warning sign of shit to me, and I am not going to ignore it!"

Wicker tuned out the rest of the bickering while she returned to her now cold breakfast. Over the years, she had gotten used to using her right hand for various tasks, but somehow, she had never gotten used to it _first_. She always tried to use her left, which had been weak ever since her shoulder had been speared. Not weak enough to be next to useless as it was now, as Revenant so kindly needled her over, but weak enough to make things difficult and annoying. She quirked a brow when she noticed Vore decided to dry her hands and sit beside her.

"Okay, real talk, what are you willing to give up to get yourself fixed up?" the resident chef asked as she watched Revenant struggle to abandon the dishes and win Chamber over. Before Wicker could lean over to get a better look at her eyes, the faunus noted, "Yes, it's Yoink for the moment. Vore took a backseat so we could chat."

"Regrettably, I'm not keen on giving up a soul."

Yoink scoffed, brushing off the reply. "I won't ask for something you _can't_ give me," she chuckled. Her laughter cut off abruptly as a thought occurred to her. "That reminds me, the cost has gone down for unlocking that again. Time is doing you a favor."

"But is it discounted enough? Is it dropping fast enough?"

The faunus only flashed her a grim smile.

"Thought not."

"I'm willing to take credit, advance the work and take the pay later," Yoink offered.

Wicker thought about it. "Your hunger's getting to you?" she checked, stewing in her own indecision.

"I wish I could say that it wasn't."

A long, drawn-out sigh gave Wicker time to consider her options and guess what Yoink would ask for in return. "What'll it take to stop my arm and leg from getting worse?"

Yoink took her time, giving Wicker a chance to take a few bites. "A pie," the demon stated. "I'd _like_ a savory one— not as hard to get sick of that, and I do need to gobble the whole thing up in one sitting. I'll only take the baked good, no metaphyisical reaching."

"Won't Vore's stomach be an issue?" Wicker reminded.

"That's my problem, not yours. As long as I can stomach the whole thing, we'll be fine." After a beat, she added, "Even if it's not, I'll push a bit to meet you halfway." She laughed a bit. "I can't say I like the idea of leaving behind a half-eaten pie. Vore would eat me alive if I tried." When her humor died out, she said, "There's just one catch." Wicker tensed. "No electric help. Use the wood stove in the old kitchen. Burn wood you've at least salvaged yourself if you can, though if you can chop it, that'd be even better."

"That… might be difficult," Wicker admitted. She had learned to cook over an open fire, but baking with wood? She imagined that it would be tough, even if Yoink lowered her standards.

"I wish I could ask for something different, but a girl's gotta have feelings and heart to munch on. Feel free to recruit help though."

A comfortable quiet settled between them. Arrow had jumped up to ensure Chamber and Revenant didn't attack the other during their spat. Wicker loaded and passed Yoink a plate.

"How long until Revenant notices?" Yoink asked, nodding toward her food.

"Sooner than he'll think of trying to get me a new prosthetic, not that that would fix the issues I'm having with the mount."

"You should get to work on that pie before your leg becomes a health hazard."

"How many do you suppose I'll attempt before I make something acceptable?"

"Fifth time will be the charm."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that."

"What about the sound of your Salem's voice?"

Wicker's mood immediately soured. "Can we not talk about that?"

Yoink inhaled, and Vore exhaled. "We could," she offered. "But if I could notice the way it affects you, then it's only a matter of time before the kids figure it out, and then you'll have to deal with them." She paused. "I'm not sure if you want to kiss her or kill her either, so color me worried."

"Can we _please_ talk about anything else?" Wicker groaned, hanging her head over her plate. "Do you want to hear about— ah, the version of you that ascended into godhood?"

"Skater's pretty close to godhood herself if you ask me, she ever make it all the way?" Vore countered.

"Leader of the White Fang?"

"Did she ever start a 'grimm rights' movement?"

"The time you nearly crushed my head with your thighs?"

Vore paused. "Did you ever consider any Salem as a love—"

Wicker forced herself up. The movement caught Camera and Revenant's eyes. "Thank you for the delicious breakfast," she stated with serenity that she did not feel. "Regrettably, I must take my leave." And with her borrowed cane, she limped out to take her post at the open door from which they all arrived, waiting for whoever might come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look forward to the possibility of Wicker getting her own fic soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not expect to dig my fingers into feels, but here we are.
> 
> Also, guess which AUs are here and which characters originate from which. I'm pretty sure I didn't give enough hints for the correct answer to come up, but try anyway.


End file.
